


Trials

by skittydolly



Series: Trials [8]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Family, Family Bonding, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23653273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittydolly/pseuds/skittydolly
Summary: Din's dreams and desires had fallen along with Mandalore, but with fatherhood thrust upon him, with the relationship he thought dead and gone with Paz blooming steadily, he seemed to be given a second chance. To finally reunite with their tribe after months of aimless travel was to secure the future of his small clan.To seal their bonds, from father to child, from lover to lover, was to attest to the long lost trials of Mandalore's past.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Paz Vizla
Series: Trials [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652860
Comments: 55
Kudos: 301





	1. Directive

**Author's Note:**

> This work is apart of the "Trials" series, however it could be read as a standalone fic. Prior works serve as a lead up to this moment, they impact the emotional aspect of this fic, not its entire plot. With that, I hope the wait was worth it! I'm a little nervous, but also excited to finally start working on this fic after four months of writing for these boys!
> 
> I've decided to kind of stop thinking about what season two might bring about and just continue to diverge with what we know has happened in season one. I hope you enjoy, I don't know how long this will get, but I'm hoping to seal everything from my past works with this big fic.

Nothing made Din’s heart pound the way Paz did.

His cyare's gentle nature never ceased to amaze him. His large palms were always warm, even through the many layers of protective clothing they wore. The low timbre of his voice lulled him into a headspace he'd never felt with anyone else. In the middle of battle, blaster fire ringing through the audials of his helm, Paz voice never failed to cut through and keep him focused on their mission. Din took orders from no other. Paz was one of the few remaining heavy infantrymen in their tribe. His armor told of his rank, of the many enemies he's faced, littered with battle scars and dents and welds, some areas scraped free of the original navy paint. 

And yet here he was. 

In one of the passenger seats behind Din, Paz was sprawled, legs kicked out and slouching uncharacteristically. His rolling voice was a comfort, soothing through the audials of Din’s helmet. Though Din seemed to be paying more attention to said voice than its actual target audience. Attached to Paz and drooling all over that battle scarred armor was the child. He was babbling over his newly appointed father’s words, having absolutely no interest in learning a language as sacred as Mando’a.

Paz’ grumbled frustration was Din’s entertainment for the evening. And in headstrong Vizla fashion, Paz would continue, repeating the simplest of words in their mother tongue. He started with numbers, then colors, and he’d just begun with familial titles. “He’s missing a letter. Come on, ad, it’s just one letter,” Paz huffed, tossing his head back in such a melodramatic manner, Din really couldn't believe this was the same man that he was subordinate to during the wars.

“What is it, cyare?” Din tossed over his shoulder, attempting to indulge the man who was working terribly hard at keeping their child’s attention. It was cute and, unfortunately, an endeavor destined to fail.

“Bui’! Bui’!”

“Buir.”

“Bui’!”

“Buir.”

“Buu!”

“Oh fuck- Oh, Maker, he took a step back.”

Din turned in the pilot’s seat and the affection that bubbled up under his beskar at the sight was so incredibly overwhelming. Paz’ visor was buried dejectedly in the little one’s tummy, his tiny claws smacking at the audial attachments on his helm while Paz whined his grievances into the soft material of the baby’s cloak. Din’s heart beat a little faster, a smile spreading across his lips beneath his visor. However, no matter how absolutely cute, he couldn’t let Paz’ slip up go unnoticed. 

“Language, Vizla,” he said sternly and Paz seemed to curl into himself more, peeking out from under the kid’s tiny arm before hiding again. Din just shook his head, his partner didn’t need to know that his smile wobbled, bombarded with feelings of pure endearment at how much of a playful kid Paz himself was deep down. Well hidden under that wall of beskar, of course. He turned back around to the ship’s controls, but continued to speak.

“You keep that up, you’re gonna have to explain to our Armorer why our child’s first word is an expletive I won’t use in front of him, unlike you."

“Our child.. I’ll never get over that,” Paz said, dreamily.

“Don’t change the subject.” 

Paz gave an indignant huff of defeat, slouching back again and supporting the child with big hands when he wobbled to stand on his chest. “Well, with how this is going, it might be ages until we hear a fully formed word from him,” Paz hummed, not unkindly. “It’s been nine months since you’ve taken him under your wing. Five since we reunited and he hasn’t even grown an inch.” 

Din shifted in his seat with a shrug. “He’s fifty years old and a foot tall, Paz, nothing about him is to our standards. I’m not expecting him to have any semblance of vocabulary he understands. It’s all phonics at this point.” Paz gave a rumble of agreement, scratching lightly behind the baby’s ear, earning him a giggled coo and the little one crawled over Paz’ chest plate to curl up at his neck again.

“He’s a good kid. The tribe will love him,” the heavy gunner mumbled and the thought made Din’s tummy do a little flip. They’d accept him, that was no question. He was different, sure, but to turn away a child was never an option. Din had put off thinking about the situation these past few months, Paz’ presence was a welcome distraction. But, he knew his mission. Given to him by their tribe’s matriarch herself that fateful day on Navarro. 

He’d fulfill his duty to this child be it the death of him.

Din gave a soundless chuckle at the thought. Paz wouldn’t allow that, and Din was much too stubborn to die at this age. A foundling was in his care and he’d keep it that way for as long as he very much could. The rest of the Armorer’s words were quite abstract given said foundling was of a species Din currently could find absolutely no information on. Trying to access galactic records from backdoor imperial or republic databases was a hassle as it was.

Given the seemingly endless expanse of this galaxy and all the species within it, Din wasn’t surprised by his kid’s equally endless quirks. He was fifty years old and still somewhere between an infant and toddler by human standards. Both Din and Paz were human. Most of the company he kept were human, most Mandalorians were human. Kuiil happened to be the most recent of Din’s acquaintances, turned friend, may Maker rest him, who was of a species who lived much longer than the standard human lifetime.

Din could only assume the child wasn’t any different. 

This was the first mystery embedded in his firmly appointed duty. When will the child come of age? Din did not know. Would he even be alive when that happens? The logical half of Din reasoned that no, no he’d be able to cradle his tiny boy in his arms long after both his and Paz’ hair went grey. The more optimistic half of himself hoped to witness the many stages of his foundling’s life, to see him grow and converse with him, tell him stories and pass on his title, his knowledge.

Din was the baby’s father, he was his foundling and he’d treat him as such and no less, nothing would change that. In the relatively short span of traveling with him, he came to absolutely adore the pointy eared little womp-rat. Really, it was impossible not to. Cara went from holding the little boy at arms length away from her to cradling him in the bend of her arm. Din knew Paz was entirely enamored the moment he laid eyes on him back on Arvala-7.

Din has become an entirely different man in the child’s presence and, be it that peculiar little gift he has, he made everyone around him a cooing mess. Din has caught himself more than once with a goofy smile on his face just simply looking at him. Children were always a constant in the tribe, but as beroya, Din was usually off on some other planet, they would hardly get to know him. He was an only child as well. Clan Djarin consisted of himself and his father until he passed. Paz, on the other hand, had a plethora of cousins, several brothers and one sister.

Paz was the eldest and had a child hanging off of him at all times in their original covert.

He’s good with kids, he always was. Which is why he was perfectly content to sit as still as a statue, reading something on a stray data pad while the baby napped nestled beneath his chin. Din sighed quietly as he looked over his shoulder once more. This itself brought on the second inconsistency in his sacred duty to the child. To reunite him with his own kind. To find his homeworld? In a galaxy with billions of planets?

As intuitive as Din is, he only has two hands and a devoted, unofficial husband and that’s the best it’s going to get at this point. He’s no miracle worker, no prophet of any sort. He’d try, of course he would, but he wouldn’t leave the baby with just anyone. And with those powers of his, who’s to say Gideon's living Imperial confidantes and their band of troopers wouldn’t be scouring the universe to find him. Who was Din to leave him with?

“What do you know of the Jedi?”

He found himself asking before he could really stop himself, looking over his shoulder to find Paz having set his data pad aside and seemed to be dozing along with the little one. The heavy gunner sat up slowly, shifting this way and that to work a few satisfying pops from his back, the baby still nestled contently at his neck. He tilted his helm back against the headrest, looking up at the ceiling of the cockpit, humming in contemplation before speaking.

“Jetiise?”

“I believe so, yes,” Din responded, the word in Mando’a unfamiliar to him. Paz seemed to mull the question over, silent for a moment as he stroked his fingers lightly behind the child’s ears. “Sorcerers,” he simply said, “Enemies to Mandalore, once upon a time.” Din swallowed thickly, turning the pilot’s seat around to face the heavy gunner. “The Armorer stated the same,” Din said slowly, meeting Paz’ visor.

“I don’t know much more,” Paz admitted, shifting his weight in the seat, holding the baby close to his nape. “Ba’buir could have possibly told you, she used to tell us stories. Their weapon of choice cast light and repelled blaster fire. Our people used slugthrowers in combat to retaliate. I remember that one the most because of how ridiculously ingenious the notion was.” The man shook his head at the memory and Din smiled quietly, looking down at his hands. 

“The child is no Jedi, Din,” Paz stated in that firm voice of his, making Din raise his head. “They were an order. They were inducted by choice as Mandalorians are. Just because he bears these powers does not mean he will bear their title.” Din swallowed hard once more, forcing his wringing hands to the armrests of his seat. “Nor does he bear the mark of the blood they shed. He is a son of Mandalore by right of your name.”

“Alor stated the same,” Din repeated with a sigh, looking up at Paz with a coy tilt of his helm. “You’re not thinking of challenging her with your wisdom are you?” Paz let loose a quiet laugh, the serious atmosphere about him melting away, and he shook his head. “You flatter me, my darling. However, that is a battle I would be destined to lose. Besides, I’m not that old.” Din gave a quiet chuckle himself, giving in to the urge to be beside his cyare and getting up from his seat.

Paz immediately shuffled his legs to make room, Din fitting perfectly in his lap, knees to either side of the larger man’s hips. “No, you most certainly are not, but you’re wiser than you give yourself credit for,” the hunter sighed, resting his forehelm to Paz’ gently, nuzzling softly and Paz returned the sentiment with a rolling hum. 

“Why the thoughts on these Jedi?”

Din gave a sad smile behind his helm, shaking his head quietly. It was then that the baby seemed to sense his father’s presence, turning from Paz’ neck and immediately reaching for Din with whining babbles. Din shifted to rest comfortably against Paz’ front, bringing the little one to his own chest and rubbing his thumb tenderly over his pudgy, rosy cheek. “We’ll talk about it later,” he replied, leaning into the large hands kneading gently up his sides. The child started once more with his calls for “bui”, the hunter reminded of his earlier entertainment.

“The lessons don’t seem to be progressing.” The kneading stopped just before Din continued with a roll of his eyes beneath the helmet, sure that Paz was pouting. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.” Those big paws immediately continued to massage at his waist like an overgrown Loth cat. “He’ll get it,” Paz huffed, “He's a curious little thing just like you are. Vocal to boot.”

As if he knew the conversation was about him, the baby turned in Din's arms and squealed in Paz' direction, reaching his stubby arms out. Paz leaned into them, nuzzling his beskar clad face into the child's hands with an affectionate laugh. "That right, ad'ika, you just keep practicing, that's all buir can ask for." Another series of "bui"s came in that cooing voice. Din couldn't help the smile on his face beneath the veil of his visor.

"You're such a natural, cyare," the hunter noted, bringing his hand up to brush his fingers below Paz' helm, leather scratching lightly at the scruff of his jaw. He could feel the rumble of Paz' chuckle at the tips of his fingers. "It's been a long, long time since I've interacted with one so small. The youngest in our tribe had just turned six, bonded riduur deemed conception of new life quite the risk just before Navarro. There were very few foundlings we picked up since then until this one came along."

Paz brought a hand up to gently rub the baby's ear between his fingers. Din vaguely remembered their matriarch's decree long ago. They couldn't afford such tiny children when hiding, when desperately squandering for food and supplies. Intent to procreate wasn't inherently banned, just.. greatly discouraged and for good reason. The tribe took the matter to heart it seemed, any little ones they sheltered in the maze of sewer lines were foundlings, just as Din had been.

"Do you think things will be different?" Din's voice sounded much too wistful to be his own, not realizing he really said it until Paz' arm came to wrap delicately around his waist. The younger secured his grip on the child as he was shifted sideways into Paz lap. "I don't know," Paz answered softly, resting his helm tenderly to Din's. "When our tribe is reunited there will be much to do. I doubt breeding would be the first thing on anyone's mind until we can get a solid foundation under our boots."

Din huffed out a breath of a laugh, knocking his helm to Paz' playfully. "Your kink would say otherwise," he joked lightheartedly, feeling Paz' entire body bristle under him and he received a firmer knock back at his temple. "Like you can say any better, little boy, watch it," Paz growled just as playfully and Din shook his head, watching the child's big eyes look between both of his fathers in confusion and he cleared his throat, passing the child back into Paz' arms, shifting in his lap before sliding off of it in embarrassment.

"I'll let you get back to your lessons then," he croaked, coming back to sit in the pilot's seat with his arms crossed, cheeks heating up when Paz laughed. The heavy gunner raised himself from his seat behind him and Din nearly jolted when one strong hand squeezed firmly at his nape. "You are unbearably cute, you know that?" Another chuckle had Din bristling this time, swatting Paz' hand away and turning to look at him, hoping his scowl projected itself through his black visor.

"Fortunately for you, I think we'll give you a break and leave you to your natural habitat," the larger man chided, pinching the chin of Din's helmet between his fingers and then raising his hand in surrender when the younger jerked away with a huff.

"Brat."

"Old man."

"Bui!"

Paz retaliated to Din's behavior by turning right around and blatantly ignoring him, giving every ounce of his attention to the baby. "That's right, ad, you get a nice bath before bedtime. Buir can stay here and brood while you get kisses when you're all tucked in, yeah?" The child squealed in delight at the baby voice Paz didn't often use. To Din it was a little more than unsettling, so he scoffed to hide his obvious jealousy, turning right around to face the viewport while Paz' voice faded down the stairwell to the lower level of the Crest. 

Din let loose a heavy breath and leaned his head back, eyes sliding shut.

In these five months, he’s learned to embrace these returning feelings of trust, of adoration he thought he had long since lost. Paz’ presence was so overwhelming, and yet so entirely welcome. His dreams and desires had fallen along with Mandalore, but with fatherhood thrust upon him, with the relationship he thought dead and gone with Paz blooming steadily, he seemed to be given a second chance. 

Things have panned out as well as they could have. After the final battle on Navarro, Din could only think of getting the child as far away as possible. They’d been attacked only a handful of times since then. Din was unsure if the tracking fob on the kid was still active or if the bounty on his own head was still well placed. He could only hope that these were just random attempts at scavenging or cruising into the wrong territory. He didn’t have the patience to question their motives, Paz even less.

If his child was in harm's way, he’d exterminate the problem on sight and they’d keep moving. 

So far, Din’s simply allowed fate to take the reins and determine their journey. He had no destination in mind. Jobs would come, he was thankful still for Greef’s support in that matter. So long as they weren’t terribly shady, he’d take them. With Paz’ help, they’d claim their reward within the solar cycle. They’d stock up on supplies with the credits they’d earn and Din learned Paz was quite the barterer. His intimidating size definitely helped with that.

If they’d come across a safe, hospitable planet, they’d give the old Razor Crest a chance to rest and allow them to stretch their legs and hunker down for a few weeks if they could. Their journey was aimless, it really was, but the company Din now kept made this entire mess worth it. He didn’t regret saving the baby that night. That decision gave him the family he could remember he once dreamed of when he was younger. So long as they were safe and healthy and happy, it was all Din could possibly ask for.

A sudden blip at the console roused Din from his thoughts.

He opened his eyes, looking to his left where the holoprojector pinged an oncoming message. He hoped it was Greef with another job for him to keep them on their way. From the looks of it, it was a one way transmission and encrypted to boot. The Mandalorian raised a brow, sat a little straighter, and clicked the receiver.

\--

Din managed to make it down the ladder without tripping over his wobbly legs.

Paz was already lounging on their shared cot, the recently bathed and clothed baby resting comfortably on his armored chest with bunches of their blanket cushioning him. Din approached him slowly as not to startle him. He leaned over, resting his helm gently to his cyare’s, fitting his fingers beneath his cheek plating to caress his jaw tenderly.

The larger man awoke with a low hum, his large hand coming up to gently cradle Din’s to his cheek, leaning into his gloved palm. Adoration bloomed in Din’s chest as he nuzzled forward, whispering quietly. “Come with me.” Paz gave a tilt of his head and then nodded, holding the baby to his chest, taking the entire blanket with him to the little nook across from the cot where he slept. Like the doting father he was, he created a little nest from the blanket, which the child immediately burrowed in to.

Just as he sealed the hatch, Din took his hand in his own and squeezed, already leading him towards the ladder and up to the cockpit. “What is it, cyar’ika?” the heavy gunner asked, voice worn from sleep. Din pursed his lips beneath his visor and he simply urged Paz into the pilot’s seat. He reached over, once again clicking the receiver open. He could visibly feel Paz tense as he rested his hands to his broad shoulders.

A hologram skull of the great Mythosaur lit the entire cabin in pale blue.

“Din Djarin,” the voice said and Din could hear Paz breathe out a gasped “Alor”. He squeezed the man’s shoulders. “Should this message find you,” their armorer started, her voice always so steady, firm, and full of purpose. “You are to return to Navarro.” Paz chanced a look up at him and Din met his visor with a nod. 

“Since our last encounter, I have disassembled my forge, cleared the covert of remaining valuables, and compiled beskar castings for removal.” Din jumped slightly when Paz’ hand came up to clasp his own, so engrossed in the message he lost himself for just a moment. The gentle squeeze of his palm brought him back to reality as their matriarch continued.

“Paz Vizla should be accompanying you, I assume.”

With that, Paz seemed to sit a little straighter, his helmet raised as if proud. “To extract these articles will take all of our strength and we must do so quickly. Carasynthia is willing to assist,” she said and warmth coiled in Din’s stomach again at the mention of his friend. “The shock trooper?” Paz hummed with another glance back and Din nodded. 

“Return soon,” her voice was just a touch softer. “For what remains of our tribe awaits our arrival.” Paz’ entire body seemed ready to shoot off the seat and Din couldn’t resist the urge to fold his arms around him and bury his visor into his shoulder. The emotion was overwhelming. The months waiting for an answer, for any semblance of hope.

“Sanctuary secured, vode. This is the Way.”


	2. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to Navarro. A farewell to friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the conclusion that this series isn't as Star Wars timeline compliant as I had wanted it to be, but it doesn't really matter. So just keep that in mind! I hope y'all like this chapter! I'm sorry it took so long, but I hope the wait was worth it ♥
> 
> This chapter is dedicated especially to an anon from Tumblr! They sent me an incredibly sweet message, and I hope they see this and makes their day the same way they made mine ♥♥♥

Before they received their Armorer's transmission, they had already set course for a tiny planet in the outer rim for a supply run. The last time they had done so was on their last visit with Peli back on Tatooine where they received that surprise gift. He hated to admit was already half empty, but that’s besides the point.. With an unknown destination ahead of them and extra mouth to feed en route, Din convinced Paz that the trip would be worthwhile.

As much as he'd love to book it straight to Navarro, he had to think of the coming days, the coming weeks. The Armorer did not disclose the state of what was left of their tribe. He was sure she would brief them on those details in person. While the transmission was encrypted, it was wise on her part to only relay base information. They didn't know who could possibly be listening and Din would take no chances this time. 

The first portion of their day was spent in an overly bustling marketplace.

They split up to look for supplies. Paz took to finding food items in bulk, meats and hearty vegetables especially, he was good at that. Meanwhile, with the child strapped in a makeshift birikad across his chest, Din haggled for tools and storage components of the hovering variety. Din did not particularly have many personal belongings to begin with, however the Razor Crest was small. He didn't know how many items Alor had salvaged in their desecrated covert. He did know that her dismantled forge would require the largest amount of space. That forge was hundreds of years old and had been installed since they first settled on Navarro years ago.

Din could only hope the cargo hold would be enough for everything, including three fully grown Mandalorians and a baby. They'd discuss matters once they were secure, Din had to keep telling himself that. His mind wandered to every possible problem. For all he knew the trip to this unknown sanctuary would only last a week or so. He just wanted to be prepared, he had to be for the tribe, he wouldn't fail them. Not again.

He was sure he would be the first choice to send out in the event more supplies would be needed. He was also sure, with the Armorer in tow, that they'd make another supply run before setting coordinates to their new home. For now, Din found several storage bins of varying sizes for their Armorer's use, an array of tools thrown into the bins, along with several yards of simple woven material to help clothe the foundlings should they need.

They met back at the Razor Crest.

It was amusing to see Paz carrying three large sacks on each arm of nothing but fresh meats and vegetables. Din could only surmise that Paz had absolutely no thoughts of budgeting their credits at the moment, and the hunter couldn’t find the heart to argue otherwise. Paz wanted what was best for their tribe and Din loved him for it. They boarded the ship, depositing their purchases on their shared cot to sort through.

Paz had all too eagerly gone up to the cockpit to get the ship into hyperdrive once in space, coordinates set to Navarro. By the time he made it down the ladder to the lower cabin, he was greeted by two smacks to his helmet and another three at his pauldron. He could practically feel the embarrassment coming off Din in waves. Paz just laughed when a brand new, completely full bottle of lube was thrust towards his visor. 

“This is what you spend our credits on!” Din had practically wheezed. Paz merely took both of Din’s hands in his and danced him playfully around the cabin. “I’m surprised you didn’t throw the new toy at my face first,” he joked and Din flustered, shoving his hands at Paz’ helm to push him away. Din turned on his heel and grabbed the perfectly sealed black box before the baby could even glance at it.

“I’m going to shoot you one day, Vizla,” the younger Mandalorian growled in exasperation, quickly tossing both items in that shameful little drawer and shutting it tightly. He had to get a lock for that thing… “You know I’d let you, darling,” Paz simply laughed heartily behind him, rifling through their bags and pulling out a toy of a different variety.

A little stuffed frog which the baby immediately latched onto when Paz passed it to him. He was absolutely mesmerized if those huge golden eyes were anything to go by. Din watched him, and then deliberately strode over, took Paz by the shoulders and stood on his tiptoes to knock their helmets together. “If he tries to eat that thing, I swear to Maker you’re getting tossed out the airlock,” his voice was deadpan and Paz could only nod his head quickly.

“Yes, sir,” he choked out. A man nearly a foot smaller and a hundred pounds lighter than him could make his knees wobble and, if anything, that was why Paz was so hopelessly in love with him. Din patted his shoulders and sighed heavily, hands dragging down the heavy gunner’s arms and then clasping his hands. “You spoil him too much,” he hummed and Paz chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his thumbs over the worn leather at Din’s knuckles.

“Well, I was rewarded handsomely the last time I did. Thought maybe I’d get lucky,” he purred and Din shook his head, giving Paz’ hands a squeeze before letting go. “We don’t have time even for a quickie, Paz, we’ve got work to do,” he said, turning towards their supply haul and removing everything from the bags to organize. “A man can dream,” Paz huffed, giving Din’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze and then heading towards their preserver to make room for their plentiful bounty of food.

\--

They’d managed to clear every possible inch they could for storage by the time they touched down on Navarro’s surface. The sun had already set as they landed near the lava flat tunnel as instructed by their Armorer in her message. A low frequency beacon was waiting for them from inside the tunnel, connecting to the shielded tracker embedded into the signet on Din’s shoulder once they exited the Crest. This would signal the Alor of their arrival without compromising their current position.

The child was already sleeping as they made it down the ramp, cradled gently in Din’s arms and wrapped in a blanket. He’d rather not leave him on board the ship considering what transpired on this planet just 5 months ago. He didn’t think he’d be able to trust this place much ever again, even with the few allies he still kept in this area.

With an extra layer of defense parameters raised on the ship, they were ready.

Paz was far better capable at maneuvering with his jetpack. When they could, the heavy infantryman would coach Din through practice, but right now they needed to move quickly. So Paz scooped up the duo in his arms, his jetpack blaring to life and they made their way over the molten flats. The warmth made the little one wiggle in Din’s arms as though he remembered. Din shushed him gently, drawing the little blanket over his ears to help with the jetpack’s sound as well.

They eventually came across where Din had encountered the ferry droid that day. In its place was an automated raft, constructed almost completely from scratch and Din had absolutely no doubt in his mind that this was the work of their Armorer. Paz landed upon the platform with a heavy thump, setting Din down carefully and rubbing a hand tenderly at the younger’s back as they quietly stared deep into the dark tunnels.

“To be back here..” Din started, wishing his voice didn’t waver. “It’s quite overwhelming isn’t it?” Paz hummed, giving the back of Din’s neck a gentle squeeze. “Will you be alright, cyare?” Din nodded silently, but his heart was still pounding beneath his beskar. They flicked on the flashlight mounts on their helms, making their way through the tunnels

Paz was much more familiar with this covert than Din was. The heavy gunner led their way through the maze, following markings along the walls that Din hadn’t even noticed were there the last time he was here. The halls were deathly quiet, Din’s heart sinking by the minute at the memories of that day. They were hazy, but he remembered them like it was just yesterday, the blow to his head, the blood soaking his skin and sweat burning his eyes and blurring his vision.

A gentle hand brought him out of his grim thoughts.

He was pulled tightly against Paz’ side, shuffled close to the nearest wall as they neared an intersecting tunnel. Din gasped quietly, not even noticing the sound of approaching footsteps in his distracted state. But his heart was immediately soothed by that voice.

“Mando?” she called out.

“Cara-” he nearly sobbed, voice shaky and choked as he stepped out from behind the dividing wall of the tunnel. He was met with open arms. Neither of them were terribly affectionate, but this was an exception. “Hi- Oh, hey,” she chuckled and that smile was absolutely contagious. She near lifted him off the floor, both arms surrounding Din’s shoulders as she rocked them side to side gently, one gloved hand clasping the back of his helmet tenderly.

A high squeal broke them apart, the little one swaddled in Din’s arms reaching out desperately, wide awake from his nap. “Hey, kiddo, have you been taking care of you dad?” she cooed, taking the baby from Din, and rocking him in the bend of her arm. He immediately cuddled up at her shoulder and babbled unintelligible little noises, little claws reaching for her hair to play with. She squeezed him tight to herself, nuzzling her cheek at his fuzzy, wrinkled forehead.

Such a contrast for a woman who claimed she didn't do the baby thing.

It was then that Paz joined them in the light of the torch she docked in the closest wall mount. Cara reached for her weapon, hand flying to her right hip, but Din was quick to stop her. “Cara, this is Paz Vizla,” he said, stepping out from between them, watching in amusement as they regarded each other quietly. Din turned to her and continued. “He led the charge the night I rescued the child and escorted us to safety.”

The shock trooper looked Paz up and down, tilting her head back and then offering her hand. “Paz, this is Cara Dune, the rebel shock trooper I’ve told you about,” Din offered, tilting his own head, observing Paz’ body language carefully. He really wasn’t expecting the big guy to take her hand firmly, take a knee and rest his forehelm to the back of her palm. “Your selflessness saved the life of my cyare and the child. Vor entye. I am forever in your debt, Carasynthia Dune.”

There was a long pause, everyone seeming frozen in place before Cara’s chuckle broke the tension. She slipped her hand from Paz’ slapping him heartily on the shoulder and giving him a hard shake. She shot a look of amusement at Din. “And here I thought you were weird.” Din breathed a laugh, urging Paz up. “Din holds you in high regard and I can understand why.” Din could hear the smile in Paz’ voice, his heart feeling lighter.

“Are you both calling me weird?” 

“Yes.” They both replied simultaneously. Somehow he knew they’d get along.

“I wouldn’t do that with Karga, big guy, he’d think you’re proposing to him,” she said, giving Paz’ arm a friendly shove. The larger Mandalorian laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck with a firm nod. “I’ll be sure not to,” he agreed, shifting foot to foot and looking down at Din almost shyly, even through his visor.

Cara shifted the baby securely in her arm, looking between the both of them with a raised brow before speaking. “She sent me to meet you,” she started, taking the torch from the wall mount again and turning around to lead the way, tossing another look back at Din. “She said you’d be traveling with a heavy, didn’t think he’d be that big.” This time Paz crossed his arms over his chest in a way Din could only describe as bashful. Paz really must have gone soft.. The thought just made him smile.

“How is she?” Din asked quietly, brushing his fingers lightly against Paz’ hip in a comforting gesture as they walked further down the barren halls. One large hand came down and gave his a gentle squeeze before letting go. “You’ll see for yourselves. Definitely keeps to herself, have to make sure she eats some days. She’s a stubborn one just like you,” she commented and Din shook his head.

“I wish I could have told you sooner,” she confessed, looking over her shoulder at them with an apologetic expression. “She’d asked Karga and myself to keep this whole thing under wraps. She wouldn’t risk personal transmissions leaking any sensitive info, so aside from the jobs you’d get from Karga, it was radio silent on our end.. The relay you received was a one and done deal just to get you back here.”

“Understood. She was certainly always thorough,” Paz chimed in, nodding firmly to the trooper. “General Mandalorian code to keep all members of the tribe safe. Which was why our members split into as many separate groups as our ships could hold.” Din gave a nod of agreement. “Gives the Imps more of a challenge if they try to hunt us down,” he said, gazing around the now dimly lit area of the covert that looked a little more familiar to him.

“Aren’t you worried about being together in one place again if that’s the case?” 

“Should the Empire attempt another eradication, this new covert will be well equipped to protect us. I would not have approved otherwise.”

She stood at the entrance of what was once the forge, now completely barren, unsettling. “Alor,” the breath escaped both Din and Paz’ lips, bowing their helms to her in honor and respect. The Armorer came forward, Cara stepping politely aside as she stood before the two Mandalorians. “Vode,” she simply stated, settling a gentle gloved hand upon their helmets. Din felt a swell of pride and comfort as he raised himself, Paz doing the same beside him.

“Your return is much appreciated,” she said. She sounded tired. “We serve the tribe to the best of our abilities, Alor,” Paz stated with finality, standing a little straighter. “Clan Vizla has been of great help. Your father was the first to contact me, Alor’ad. He and your brethren eagerly await your arrival.” Paz seemed ready to launch straight out of his boots, Din couldn’t help but smile beneath his visor and he flushed as the Armorer continued, regarding him with a tilt of her helm.

“Along with your cyare,” she said firmly, but her voice softened as she looked towards the child squirming in excitement in Cara’s arms beside them. “It was right of me to send a Vizla to find you, Din Djarin. You and the child seem in better shape since our last encounter. I am relieved to see all three of you safe.” Din gave a soft nod, bowing his head once more. “Thank you, Alor. We were grateful for the assist and are ready to proceed as you see fit.”

“The Razor Crest is in position for loading,” Paz added and Din hummed in agreement. “We have storage units that can be of use to you. We’d just need to retrieve them with the use of your ferry.” She seemed to be studying them for a moment. It must be quite the contrast from the last time she had seen Paz and himself in the same room together, duking it out like two riled younglings. He was also quite certain she knew of their past relationship. Most likely the reason she had sent Paz in the first place…

Also the reason why she seemed so confident they wouldn’t kill each other during their scuffle that fateful day. She really did think of everything. Din vaguely remembered her training under her mentor at least two decades ago and soon enough she rose to the rank of Alor, Armorer and current tribe matriarch and held the titles ever since. “Indeed,” her voice broke through his thoughts as she turned on her heel and led them to a locked room beside where their sacred forge once burned.

“Carasynthia has provided much for my work in your absence, beroya,” she informed them as she fiddled with the authentication lock. Din turned to Cara who tossed him a wink. His friend was incredibly kind, he couldn’t thank her enough. “I’ve salvaged what remains of our tribe’s belongings. Material items are generally not a highly sought after prospect to Mando’ade, however much of what I found holds heritage. Holds sentimental value that our people might appreciate if we brought back to them.”

The door slid open and Din could only marvel at how neatly mismatched bins and boxes were organized, clan signets and names written in Mando’a across a few. Others were filled with salvaged material, clothing and weapons, tools and equipment. And lining the walls were the disassembled pieces of her forge along with several metal bins of what Din could guess were the casted beskar remnants of their fallen comrades. The beskar Mythosaur skull which once hung proudly above the forge now sitting solemnly in the corner of the room.

The thought made Din ache again, but they’ve come this far. Their sacrifices would not be in vain and their tribe would prosper once again. Alor turned to them and tilted her head. “The child may sleep in my quarters as we work,” she said. “We must leave before the zero hour.” They all looked between each other and Din really couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

“Shall we begin?”

Not much for preamble, they got to work immediately. Din let the child wander through the Armorer’s quarters while Paz and Cara went to retrieve the hovering bins, as well as the child’s pram from the Razor Crest. He and Alor began pulling the boxes from the secured room, keeping everything as organized as possible. She was right about Mandalorians and material items. Clans owned only what they saved from Mandalore.

Their lives were ridden in poverty after the Siege.

What they managed to save of their culture and traditions, they kept dear to them. Some of these things were hundreds of years old, passed down from one generation to the next for hundreds of years. To bring these items back, no matter how small, would mean everything to the clans within their tribe. Would gift them some semblance of warmth in the coming days. 

Paz and Cara soon came back with the containers and pram. The baby was nestled into it to keep him from wandering under foot as they worked and he watched them curiously from the hall. The hovering bins were stocked full and carted away on the first trip back to the Razor Crest. It seemed everything would fit just fine in the loading bay, Din was grateful for that. After a few trips, soon the only things left were the largest pieces of the Armorer’s dismantled forge, along with the metal bins of newly casted bars of beskar.

Din and Paz took a moment to simply look at the castings, bare of the markings which tainted the bounty from before. “If I could take back what I said,” Paz started, but Din shushed him with a gentle squeeze of his hand, leaning into Paz’ larger frame and shaking his head. “We’ll start over,” he hummed, reaching out to stroke the edge of the steel plates before replacing the lid upon the box. He hauled it into his arms, giving Paz what he hoped was a tender gaze.

“We’ll find our strength in the numbers we still have, cyare.”

Paz nodded firmly in agreement, taking the second and third box and bringing them to the containers as well. It took Paz, Cara, and Din to lift the largest piece of the forge into one of the bins. It sank dangerously low to the ground at its weight, filling its space completely, but it held as well as Din could have hoped for. He was glad they made that supply run and found these containers before coming here. He was sure they would have blown out their backs attempting to heft that thing all the way back to the Crest. 

Another two or three trips with smaller pieces of the forge, its power source and the tech that went along with it, as well as the Mythosaur skull, and finally they seemed to be finished with the transport. They took one last sweep of the covert before meeting back at the empty forge where they all seemed to slump upon remaining crates in exhaustion. The child was already napping snugly in the pram they settled in the darker area of the forge for him to sleep comfortably. It was already an hour and a half until midnight and it was then that another set of approaching footsteps had Din and Paz shooting up to their feet, blasters pointed towards the closest walkway.

“And here I thought we were past that,” Greef smiled at him and floating behind him looked to be a bar cart and Din fell back on his makeshift seat with a heavy groan. “It’s good to see you too, Mando.” He glanced Paz up and down before continuing nonchalantly as he always did. “Excuse my tardiness! Guild work never sleeps you know?” Both Din and Cara grumbled back a deadpan “We know.” right back to him. 

The older man just raised his chin and strolled right over, bringing the cart between them all and popping open the cabinet with as much tact as someone’s buzzed uncle. “Regardless, I am no stranger to hospitality.” Out he pulled several mugs. “Yeah, thanks for the help, Karga” Din grumbled under his breath, raising a brow as Paz seemed to make his presence known and loomed over Greef who paid absolutely no attention to his intimidation tactics and continued. “And so, I come bearing alcohol.” A pause.

“What kind?” Paz asked and Din groaned even louder. Was Paz really encouraging him? Maker help him.. The ex-magistrate finally acknowledged Paz with a smack to his shoulder and then pulled out an entire pitcher of the reddish amber colored liquid. “Imported Jet Juice, my large friend! Straight from Jelucan, finest in the galaxy.” A long pause and then Paz’ intimidating posture dropped completely and he returned the smack to Greef’s shoulder.

“You really know how to pick your friends, Djarin.”

Din knew Paz was grinning when Greef tossed an arm around his broad shoulders and jostled him against his side. “Your bodyguard here sure has taste, Mando,” he laughed, patting a gloved hand at the center of Paz’ armored chest before the larger Mandalorian came to sit beside him again. “I’d keep him if I were you, good stock too.” Din threw his beskar clad face in his hands. Cara chuckled in amusement beside him and he really should have known introducing Paz to these two would result in a headache.

Paz preens under the compliments, just as he’d done when Peli had said the same. 

Din rubbed his thumb and index finger above his visor where his brow should be and shook his head. He sighed heavily, looked over to their Armorer sitting across from him who just nodded her head fondly. It seemed she needed the break as well before they took off. They had some time. “Just don’t keel over, Vizla,” he grumbled and Paz threw an arm around his shoulders and bumped their helmets lightly together. “Of course not, sweetheart,” he chuckled, immediately swiping a mug from Greef before the man could drop it.

“Sweetheart?” Cara cackled, an odd sound coming from her, though her smile gave away her lack of surprise. Another long pause. “Am I missing something here?” Greef looked between all four of them, stared at the Armorer last as if looking for an answer. She’d already reached out and poured herself a brew, tossing in a metal straw into the cocktail which Greef so graciously provided. She shrugged nonchalantly. “They are to be wed before the tribe when the moment presents itself,” she slipped the straw beneath her helmet and took a sip.

Cara near spat out her drink when Greef belted out a loud, “YOU are getting married?!” Towards Din who seemed to shrink in on himself in embarrassment before an almost fatherly laugh boomed from the older man. Din quickly caught the mug that was tossed in his direction “I didn’t think you’d ever even get along with anyone, let alone marry, in the years I’ve known you, kid!” he barked, grabbing the pitcher and pouring the booze in Paz’ mug, smacking the big guy on the shoulder.

“He really must be something special.” 

Paz sat a little straighter, practically posturing his pride and Din really couldn’t handle this. He wished he had the baby to distract himself, instead he now had a mug full of alcohol and a blush on his thankfully covered face. He managed a glance at Paz, affection and adoration radiating from him that had Din’s heart clenching tight in his chest. This was real.. he really had this and his friends were so accepting of it.. Even if they found it humorous.

“Paz and I knew each other since we were children,” he supplied quietly, almost shyly. Greef handed the two of them a pair of metal straws and moved the cart away, sitting beside Alor with a mug of his own. Din wasn’t used to talking about himself, let alone his romantic endeavors, but here he was. “We trained together, inseparable, and later served in the same unit during the Siege,” he continued, hyper aware of the huge hand stroking tenderly up his back beneath his cape making him clutch his mug a little tighter.

“I became our tribe’s only hunter. We grew apart and had our differences,” Din tilted his visor up to meet Paz’, the heavy gunner’s attention solely on him. “But he was there for me when I needed him. All of you were.” The atmosphere was more emotional and tender than Din would like to admit, embarrassed at the display of emotion, but he was honest. Cara broke the silence first, a grin on her face as she leaned forward, elbows rested at her knees and mug already half empty.

“So… Back on Sorgan, when I suggested.. I mean, with Omera...” she trailed off.

“I had someone waiting for me,” Din answered, taking the moment to take a sip of his drink from the straw. He’d never been more thankful for his visor than in this moment. He knew his face was flushed red. “Omera?” Paz’ questioning voice nearly made him choke and Cara’s answer sealed the deal.

“Hot widow from Sorgan. She had the hots for your boy toy here and I thought it’d be nice if they settled down together. ‘Course, I didn’t have this info at the time.” She gestured in their general direction lazily.

“Cara!” Din sputtered indignantly, Greef’s wheezing laughter didn’t help any and even the Armorer seemed to be suppressing laughter that bubbled up from under her golden helm. Paz’ hand was suddenly snaking around his waist, squeezing him gently and pulling him closer to his side. Another huge grin in the sound of his voice and Din really wished he didn’t know him so well. “And you said you didn’t have any admirers. Come on, Djarin, have you seen yourself?” he chuckled, that deep, throaty chuckle that always sent goosebumps up his arms and his face somehow felt even hotter.

“Everyone would always stare at him in the cantina.” Greef helpfully provided with a raise of his mug.

“Coming from someone who would have swooped in to take her if you didn’t, you’re pretty hot, dude.” Cara took a swig of her booze.

“Much too hard headed to see it though.” That was most definitely a smirk from Paz. “Seconded,” Cara snorted, reaching over and Paz bumped his mug to hers.

“Absolutely unbelievable.” Din huffed, cheeks blazing beneath his helmet.

“I had warned you about drawing many eyes, Din Djarin.” The Armorer’s gentle hum.

“Alor!!” He hated to admit that was a squeak. She merely tilted her head at him and took another sip from her straw. Paz jostled him playfully, leaning down to nuzzle their helms together. “Your loyalty is much appreciated, cyar’ika, might I say, unbearably attractive,” he purred and Din went positively rigid in his seat at that rolling timbre, Cara meanwhile made gagging noises beside him.

“None of you are invited to my ceremony,” he bit out, curling into himself and nursing the straw beneath his helmet childishly. “I’m the one you're bonding yourself to,” Paz pouted and Din turned his head the other way. “I said none of you.” Cara laughed and knocked on his helm lightly. “I don’t think we were invited in the first place, Mando.” Din huffed and shook his head, looking down at the liquor in his mug with a long sigh.

“All jokes aside and with all due respect, this covert must be kept safe.” He looked up to the Armorer who nodded in agreement. “The less people know the better. Even you two,” he hummed sadly, but Cara reaches over to clasp his shoulder comfortingly. “Do come visit,” Greef smiled, “There will always be jobs I can provide you with. I don’t think you’re the type to settle down after tying the knot. Even then, that’s a lot of extra muscle you’ve got there. Not bad for business.” He gestured to Paz who shook his head with a rumbled chuckle.

“We’ll keep in touch,” Din hummed, a smile gracing his lips past his embarrassment. “Paz surprisingly seems to like you too much.” He bumped his shoulder to Paz’ side who jostled him right back. He startled with a jump when a sudden coo sounded from behind him. There the baby stood, awake from his nap and having escaped the pram to come looking for his fathers. Din sighed and placed his barely touched drink aside, taking the baby into his arms and sitting him in his lap.

“He likes you both, too.”

“I was wondering where the little womp rat was,” Greef cooed, showing three fingers to the baby and waving playfully. “Hi, baby!” he called and the little one waved back, still groggy from his nap as he nestled into Din’s lap. Paz reached over to soothe his thumb over the wrinkles on his forehead. “He’ll finally get the life he deserves,” Cara said thoughtfully. “You all will. Anything beats these sewers, hmm?” Din looked down at his child, touching a palm to his cheek and gently stroking the length of his big ears. 

“Agreed.”

\--

They eventually made it to the Razor Crest before midnight. 

They piled into the ferry and Din’s chest felt lighter than before. This was all reminiscent of that fateful day, one he’d never forget for as long as he lived. From the sacrifices of his tribe, to Kuiil who gave his all to protect his child, to IG-11 who dealt the final blow to safety. He was sad, he was. But he was the happiest he’s ever been right here, right now, surrounded by people he knew he could trust.

His friends, his found family, his very own clan. 

Cara had rested her forehead to Din’s gently in parting. Greef had clasped his wrist firmly and tugged him close to what could resemble a fatherly hug. They both tenderly stroked the child’s ear as they’d done before. It hurt to leave them, but Din would see them again. Paz pulled them both into a bear hug, one they both fought along the way, but he clasped their shoulders and said firmly. 

“Vor entye, ner vode. Ret'urcye mhi, ogir’olar.”

With that, he saluted them and trekked up the ramp to join the Armorer in the cockpit. Greef and Cara turned to Din, their expressions puzzled but warm. Din wished his voice didn’t break, but this was the beginning of a new life for his people. He knew they were happy for him.

“Thank you, my friends,” he translated Paz' words, his rasped voice soft and shaky, but they came straight from his heart. “Perhaps we’ll meet again. One way, or another.” He saluted them as Paz had and they nodded in turn. The baby cooed softly in his arms as Din walked up the ramp just as the engines kicked in. He gave his comrades one last glance, heart full with emotion as the gate closed behind him.

He scaled the ladder to the cockpit as the ship readied for take off. Alor sat in the pilot’s seat, a radio receiver of some sort connected to the ship’s controls. Within the radio waves were highly encrypted coordinates and soon enough they were logged into the navigation panel. “Where are we headed, Alor?” Paz asked quietly behind her. Din stood beside him, the larger Mandalorian immediately coiling an arm around Din’s back, thumb kneading gently at Din’s shoulder.

“Planet unnamed,” she hummed, “A destination of mountains and snow, hidden in a system galaxies away from this place.” The complete opposite of the arid wasteland that was Navarro. Din swallowed. “How long until arrival?” The navigation computed their trajectory. The relief in their Armorer’s gentle voice was entirely tangible, her entire body seeming to melt into the seat as she answered.

“Three days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> birikad - baby carrying harness (literally!!)  
> Alor - leader, this name will be in reference to The Armorer  
> Vor entye - thank you (lit. I accept a debt)  
> Alor’ad - captain  
> Vode - brothers, sisters, comrades, friends (plural of vod)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter ♥ You can always find me on Tumblr and Twitter @skittydolly for more Din and Paz content, as well as updates and previews for future chapters! Comments and questions are always appreciated, thank y'all again! ♥


	3. Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion with the Armorer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the dialogue between Din, Paz, and the Armorer in my notes for almost 2 months now, it was a joy being able to finally execute it. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for reading ♥♥♥

She'd slept nearly the entirety of their first day of travel.

It was quite the sight. Quite humorous and yet somehow so incredulous to see their Alor completely unconscious on the cot with twin, steel hammers nestled in the bend of her arm. She deserved the sleep, she must have been exhausted from all the work she's done in the covert, from the solitude to the constant worry for her tribe for the past five months. She slept through meal preparation. She slept through Din and Paz' impromptu arm wrestle. The loser would have to wake her once their dinner was ready to be served.

Din hated to lose. It didn't help that Paz' one hand engulfed the entirety of his fist and that his bicep was the size of Din's head. Din shushed the heavy gunner aggressively when his fists went pumping up into the air and he cheered for himself. The baby, watching the entire debacle from his little floor mats, giggled loudly and Din groaned defeatedly. 

He really should have expected the hammer head to the stomach. His beskar rang loudly through the cabin and Paz all but wheezed from across the hull. Din didn't quite sink to his knees, he was thankful for once he wasn't any taller, else he would have been debilitated for the remainder of the night. The Armorer sat up groggily, her regal, golden helmet askew and she reached up to fix it, getting a glimpse of Din clutching his stomach. Her gaze went to the other side of the cabin at the laughing Paz and then settled back on Din.

"Din Djarin, excuse me, I'd hoped you were Vizla." She stated, the driest of humor in her tone had Paz instantly shutting his mouth, clearing his throat and continuing to fix up their bowls for dinner. Din gave a breathy grunt and sat beside her on the cot to recover. "You need to eat, Alor, it's nearly been 24 hours," he informed quietly as she brought her bootless legs over the edge of the cot. It was refreshing to see her so.. casual, Din supposed, a far cry from her stoic self.

He even noticed a stray lock of auburn hair falling onto her shoulder from beneath her helmet and he had a terrible urge to look away from it. He wished they could give her more privacy, however this ship was tiny as it is. "Thank you, beroya," she hummed, rubbing a still gloved hand at the side of her neck. "I will take my meal to the cockpit pit so your cyare and yourself may eat together in privacy."

That made Din pause, his breath hitching as he whipped his visor around to look at her. "Pardon?" He stuttered out. Perhaps she was more out of it with sleep than he originally surmised. She simply looked at him with a tilt of her helm, her tone curious as she mumbled.

"Interesting."

Paz cut in at that moment. He rested a healthy serving of a hearty bowl of soup in her awaiting hands. "Thank you, alor'ad," she said and got to her feet, not a glance back at Din as she left up the ladder and to the cockpit to eat her meal in private. Din's gaze followed after her, so stumped that he hadn't noticed Paz come bring him a bowl of his own. “I’ll step into the fresher so you can eat and feed the child, darling,” the larger man said, tapping a knuckle below Din’s chin, but the hunter caught his hand quickly.

“Stay,” he rasped, looking up at Paz thoughtfully, the heavy gunner’s confusion alight even behind the dark visor. “I wish to speak with you.” He turned his gaze to the far side of the room. To the shelving units, specifically that little drawer he was growing much too fond of. Paz tilted his head at him and breathed a quiet, “Alright.” He retrieved one of the blindfolds from the drawer, along with a stray crate for Din to rest his bowl on. 

The baby waddled over from his soft mats on the floor and Din lifted him to sit on his lap just as Paz laid himself out on the small cot, the bed dipping under his weight. Over his visor and blue helmet, he firmly tied the blindfold without being told and Din smiled affectionately. He removed his helmet and set it beside him, clearing his throat lightly. The little one in his lap babbled as if surprised at the action, his little hands reaching up to try and touch the Mandalorian’s face.

Din placed the bowl down and allowed him to for just a moment, nestling their cheeks together as he spoke. “I think she’s confused,” he started, his voice sounding much too soft without his modulator. “She rarely is,” Paz’ voice sounded somehow even rougher in the slight static. “What makes you say that, cyare?” Gloved fingers reached blindly for him, making contact and stroking lightly over Din’s side and the younger sighed quietly.

"It seems she believed we already spoke the Riduurok..”

The statement hung in the air and Din could feel Paz shift to sit up against the pillows. “She thinks we already take our helmets off around each other?” Paz queried from behind him as Din set the baby back down and fed him a spoonful of soup from the bowl and one for himself. “Mmh. She didn’t say directly. Though it seemed like she expected us to eat together,” he explained, taking another few sips of the broth. Paz was utter husband material with the way he cooks, Din could never deny that.

“Is there something I don’t know?” he eventually asked, hoping it didn’t sound accusatory, but Paz seemed unfazed by his tone. “I’m not certain,” the larger man hummed, “Traditionally, I believe we’re doing everything correctly.” Another long pause, the baby babbling in Din’s lap as he was given another bite. “She didn’t already marry us back there on Navarro, did she?” Paz asked dumbly and Din had to chuckle, shaking his head and looking over his shoulder at the man who was rubbing the back of his neck, undoubtedly perplexed.

“With just her presence and approval? Doubtful,” he answered. “We weren’t that buzzed were we?” Another question dripping of confusion, another laugh from Din. “I would have liked to actually remember my wedding,” he snorts and Paz chuckled as well. “We didn’t even get any holos, how devastating,” he pouted and Din leaned over to shove him, careful with his bowl and finishing it up quickly, allowing the child the last bite. The little one would have some of Paz’ serving if he was still hungry.

The younger set the baby back on the mats where he was distracted by his new little frog toy. Thankfully he hasn’t tried to eat it and hopefully it stays that way. Din meanwhile rested his helmet back on his head and shifted farther onto the cot. Paz welcomed his weight, large hands going to Din’s hips as he rested comfortably in his lap. “It’s quite the assumption to make is all,” he hummed, raising his hands to shift the blindfold away from Paz’ visor. The older man nodded his head with a low, rumbling hum, his hands kneading tenderly up Din’s sides. 

“We’ll speak with her,” he promised, pulling Din closer and nestling his visor into the nape of his neck. “When she comes back down, we’ll clear things up.” Din sighed as he leaned into the warm embrace, his cheek plating to Paz’ shoulder as he was gently rocked side to side. It’s been a moment since they had some privacy. Even with their Alor asleep, Din didn’t particularly feel comfortable, nor did he want to be interrupted..

Now seemed as good a time as any.

Their helmets were shifted up slightly in ritual, a soft, blind kiss between them. Paz deepened it with a tilt of his head and Din quickly slipped back with an embarrassing smack of their lips and a stuttered little hum. “Keep it in check, Vizla,” he coughed as they brought their helms back down. Paz simply chuckled and knocked their forehelms together lightly. “You taste good,” he rumbled and Din shook his head and shoved at his shoulders playfully.

“Are you complimenting yourself on your own cooking?”

“You said it, not me,” Paz tittered back. Din rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, shifting off the cot and heading to the other side of the cabin to fix a bowl for the other man. “It is really good, cyare,” he said, ladling a few more vegetables into the bowl. “Some might call me lucky to have you. And I’d have to agree with them.” Paz shifted his legs off the side of the cot as Din came back with his serving and set it on the crate from before.

The heavy gunner hummed approvingly, taking Din’s wrist and pulling him to stand between his legs. “I’m glad you think so,” he purred, reaching behind him and urging Din to bend as he tied the blindfold around Din’s visor this time. Paz stared at him for a moment before taking off his blue helmet and leaning forward to push a firm kiss to Din’s covered neck. “You know this is kinda kinky,” he chuckled and Din immediately swatted at him with his hands.

“Eat your food, Paz,” he growled, brushing past the other and finding his way onto the cot to lounge as Paz had. Paz laughed and jostled Din with a hand at his thigh before scooping up his bowl from the crate. The baby immediately waddled over to him, still seemingly hungry. “You think he’d like a frog stew?” Paz asked as he lifted the baby into his lap. “He eats them live, Paz, I’m sure he’d love anything you cook for him.”

“...Nuggets, too?”

“Vizla,” Din all but whined, kicking his boot at Paz’ armored thigh. “Okay, okay,” Paz smirked, taking a spoonful for himself and groaning in delight. He was pretty good at cooking, he supposed. He fed another to the baby. “Don’t think a cold planet would have many frogs,” he thought out loud, “We’d have to grab some off-world for him.” He gave a little pout down at the child, rubbing his thumb lightly at a stray drip on his little chin. His heart squeezed in his chest when tiny claws grasped at his hand and a giggle followed. 

"Hopefully it won't be too cold," Din grumbled behind him, "Thankfully we found those materials during our travels. The foundlings will need the protection." Paz hummed in agreement around another mouthful. "We'd usually find ourselves in deserts.. I suppose a change would do the tribe some good." Din's voice sounded wistful. What he said was true. The Mandalore Din remembered before the wars, before the planet's demise, was primarily flatlands, plains and deserts.

When the tribe migrated, many of the planets they'd stopped to rest on were wastelands and then came Navarro, all lava rock and dust. He supposed anything would be better than the sewers, Cara had been right about that. The younglings deserved fresh air and a sky at the very least. They'd suffered long enough. And with all the suffering Din had endured, he was thankful that this was the result of it. The sacrifices would be worth it, for the sake of his grief and guilt, they'd have to be.

He hadn't realized he was lost in thought until Paz' weight shifted off the bed and the little one was crawling on his back. He could hear the man washing their dishes across the cabin and footsteps down the ladder and he surmised he could take the blindfold off. The Armorer placed her dish in Paz' hand for him to wash, strode over to Din and took the baby off of the hunter's back to gently set on the floor.

"I must speak with the both of you." An order. Loud and clear.

"Well that was easy." He heard Paz chuckle, drying his hands on a stray cloth and placing his gloves back on. Din shifted to sit up on the bed, watching as Alor moved to grab one of the many bins housed beside them in the cargo hold. In Mando'a script, the side of the box was labeled 'Vizla' and Din suddenly felt his palms dampen and he swallowed hard. The situation somehow became all the more real. 

She set the box between them, sitting herself upon the crate beside the cot and Paz sat beside Din, lazily shifting his helmet into order from when he took it off. There was a long pause as Alor seemed to study them, the only sounds coming from the ship's inner workings and the baby rolling around with his stuffed toy on the soft mats. Finally, after what felt like an eternity she spoke, her voice inquisitive and gentle.

"Your helmets have yet to be removed before each other." She stated bluntly, it wasn't much of a question. They both simply nodded their heads, Din sitting ramrod straight and he could feel Paz tense beside him. They all definitely seemed to be on the right track. It didn't make Din any less nervous. "Yes, Alor," Paz' voice cut in, his hands clasping firmly at his knees. "From our education as younglings and the tales of our fathers, and by tradition, it was to be expected that the Riduurok would be performed before our tribe and yourself."

"Only as riduur'e would our faces be revealed. Never a moment before," Din added, quite self consciously. There was another quiet pause before she continued. "I assumed you had already done so. That the ceremony would only be for officiation…" She took a thoughtful pause and then continued before they could say anything. "You've known each other since you were younglings. As a foundling, Din Djarin, you were never far from the third eldest son of Clan Vizla." Another statement, no question in sight, but Din had to agree, through the flush upon his cheeks. 

"Yes, Alor."

"During your first Trial off world with your father," she started, directing her gaze towards Paz and Din did the same. "For six months, the prodigal son, Paz Vizla visited the same hangar every night pestering ground control for updates on your estimated time of arrival." Din blinked quickly behind his visor when Paz jumped slightly beside him and then rubbed the side of his neck, looking away in embarrassment.

"Maker, you saw that?" 

"We received complaints, Vizla."

Paz just crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled something, but Din was simply too starry eyed under his helmet to really hear what he said. "You trained together," she continued, "Paz Vizla was once concussed and found rambling nonsense about your skill, among other things, in the medical ward, Din Djarin." Paz nearly whined out loud at that, bumping his shoulder hard against Din's and huffing when Din snorted at that. "Come on! How do you have memory of all that! Say something embarrassing about him, lay off-" he seemed to have caught himself mid sentence, cleared his throat and said, "Continue, Alor."

There was another pause, this one somehow filled with amusement despite their expressionless masks. "I found Din Djarin confessing his affection for you to a stray tooka near my forge at age 19." The entire cabin went completely silent, it seemed even the child stopped to look up at his fathers from the floor. Din broke the silence with a hushed, tight voice. "You promised you wouldn't tell anyone."

"I never did until this moment, beroya."

"You never did like to communicate with anyone else," Paz all but purred beside him, an arm coming around Din's shoulders which the younger promptly swatted away. The Armorer shook her head, clearly amused. Though her tone went solemn as she continued. "You were drafted into the same unit during the Siege." They both went slightly tense at that, straightening beside each other. That was a time in which they both hadn't yet discussed nor wanted to, but they nodded anyway.

"Yes, Alor."

"Your unit secured the route for our foundlings and tribe. You worked very well together," she hummed and they nodded once more. "You have a rich history," she said, her voice rather fond beneath the mechanical drawl of her modulator. "Your devotion to the Creed is well known. Your clans; well respected. Your ranks; well earned. And whether you two knew, your relationship, your camaraderie, your devotion to each other; well received within the tribe." 

Din and Paz chanced a look at each other.

"We were well prepared for a bonding ceremony the moment Djarin came of age." That was rather blunt. "But the Siege took everything, did it not?" Din frowned beneath his visor, looking away from Paz and instead to his gloved hands wringing nervously in his lap. "Yes, Alor," they answered in unison. There was another long, pregnant pause, Din growing uncomfortable in the silence until the Armorer spoke once more.

"The tribe has suffered. Every member has known pain, every member has coped differently. That day on Navarro was a fateful one." Din all but crumbled when their matriarch reached over, lifting his chin with careful fingers. "You both have been given the chance few others have. You drifted apart. You've had your differences and yet you are here. Together. With a foundling in your care. Having secured a better future for our tribe." 

Din leaned heavily into Paz' side when the man wrapped his arm around his shoulder, his thumb caressing lightly beneath his pauldron. "Your bond has been well earned. Some might already acknowledge you as bondmates simply for your history. You could have married yourselves, officiated or no," she stated and Paz jumped again, startling Din slightly.

"My Armorer- The Riduurok-" he seemed grasping for something he couldn't quite understand and Din could find no sense to blame him. All they were taught seemed to be crumbling in the soft words of their leader. "To perform the Riduurok is the bond itself," she started. "To exchange the mantra in truth and honor to your mate is to be bonded. Lack of witness does not make it less so.

"But, traditionally, you-"

"Your ancestry is rooted deep in our traditions, however many of these traditions have been lost to us, Paz Vizla. Our glorious celebrations on Mandalore were the first to go." She reached between them and removed the top to the bin she grabbed from the pile. "However, if you insist upon tradition, I, as your Alor will make it so. A bonding ceremony has not taken place since before the fall of Mandalore. If you two have the patience to wait to be bonded, I am certain our tribe might find the sight refreshing. Find some semblance of hope in these times of hardship and uncertainty."

Din didn't think he's ever heard such a broken sound coming from his cyare. "These were of the few items salvaged from the quarters of Clan Vizla, left behind in the haste of our evacuation." Once more, her voice took on an edge of fondness as she reached down and so very carefully lifted two pieces of garb from the bin. "The rest was much too damaged, however the most important pieces survived."

"These-" Paz gasped, offering his open hands which the material was placed into. "This is what my buir'e were bonded in. My bavodu'e. My ba'buir'e. Their buir'e before them." Din felt overwhelmed as the pieces were brought closer to him, like they were much too sacred for him to touch, but Paz insisted. The younger Mandalorian swallowed hard, pursing his lips as he ran the orange tips of his fingers over the material. Had he removed his gloves, he was sure it would have been soft to the touch.

Both pieces were near identical cloaks to be worn over one's armor during a bonding ceremony. The edges of the hood were lined in silver threads, shiny against the white material, Mandalorian decal printed into the fabric in many tints of blues. Upon the length of the back stretched the Mythosaur skull, blood red in coloring, and sewn into the bottom hem of the cape was the same silver threading and blue deco upon the hood. 

Din didn't know what to do with himself in that moment. Months of speaking about it, a decade of dreaming of bonding with Paz was suddenly so unbelievably possible and Din was holding the proof in his own hands. "It's beautiful," he whispered, his voice sounding much too soft to be his own. Paz' hand squeezed firmly at his arm, pulling him close and Din couldn't find any shame in nestling his visor to hide in the nape of Paz' neck.

"You know of the bonding process?" The Armorer queried, folding her hands in her lap as she watched the two. Din turned after a moment, and he suddenly felt like a young foundling again asking an elder for a story when Paz, most certainly in absolute bliss, quietly said, "Tell us."

"Very well," she said, a soft smile clear in her voice. "Clan Vizla will make preparations. In place of Din Djarin's father, the matriarchs of Clan Vizla will assist our beroya. Paz Vizla, your brothers will do the same for you. You will be separated. Your armor will be removed and polished and your clothing will be washed. In private, your bodies bathed, your helmets polished yourselves." 

"Your cuirasses will be brought to the forge."

She reached both hands out to them, Din turning his body for her. Her palms set firmly at the centers of their chests. "Kar'ta Beskar. The Mandalorian diamonds will be removed." She removed her hands in presentation and then rested them again to her knees. "After preparations, you will meet before the tribe, before the forge, in this garb." She motioned towards the cloaks. "It is then you will vow the Riduurok. It is then you will be bonded. You will witness the iron hearts of your armor be melted down together, forged in fire, the beskar will become one once again. I will craft them to your armor specifications and I will present them to you both." 

Din felt somewhat dizzy listening to her. He'd attended bonding ceremonies, but mostly as an uninterested child. What he learned of bonding in education was in its most basic form; the Riduurok. He could imagine all that her articulated words could offer and it was overwhelming. "Before the tribe," she continued, stirring Din from his thoughts. "You will weld the hearts to each other's cuirass and forever will you bear a piece of your riduur by heart and by soul, by the fire of the forge and by the beskar of Mandalore. This is the Way."

"This is the Way." Din and Paz repeated.

It took a moment for Din to absorb all that's just been said. He felt he'd be prepared for this, but it didn't help his nerves much. Paz' steady hand against his lower back however, eased him a tad. "It is your choice how you proceed after the ritual is complete. By tradition, the Oya'karir follows." Din lit up a little at that. Away from prying eyes at last. The Oya'karir, the hunt between those bonded, chasing the other, sparring to submission. Din could hunt. He was good at that. 

"You will be given the honor to perform this hunt. However, with utmost respect, you must be mindful of your safety and the tribe." She said, her voice a little firmer than before. "On Mandalore, we week would be granted. We do not yet know the dangers of this planet. Use your time to scout and report during your hunt." She gave a look between them both. "Just don't get yourselves killed in the process."

Paz chuckled at that and Din gave him a shove. "You may take the Razor Crest if necessary for privacy," she said, and without skipping a beat, "You both should know of the consummation to seal your bond." An entire flush went down Din's spine at that, even more so as she continued. "Considering the shape of your berth, I assume you've had practice. I expect you both to be prepared as I will most likely not have the utilities to create the traditional lubricant-"

"Alor!" This time it was Din who sputtered, throwing his hands over his visor while Paz may as well have been shuffling his feet beside him. She gave a little huff of a laugh and crossed her arms. "It is merely tradition, Djarin," she assured. Her gaze went down to the floor where the child was babbling to his little toy frog.

"Meanwhile, your ad will be safe with the tribe. When the moment presents itself, we will discuss the matter in further detail."

Din and Paz both nod in understanding once they regained their bearings.

"We understand there is much work to do to rebuild our tribe and new covert, Alor." Din cleared his throat. "We do not wish to interrupt. We will wait until you see fit." The Armorer nodded quietly. "The construction of shelter will come first. The moment our tribe is settled, and upon the reconstruction of my forge, you will be bonded, vod'e. That I can promise you." She stood up and they did the same, Paz setting the garb on the bed carefully.

Din's breath hitched as she tenderly cupped the sides of their cheek plating, bringing them both down to her height to rest their helms together tenderly. He clasped her wrist, eyes closing behind his helmet as affection squeezed tightly at his heart. They pulled away when the child wiggled between them, always wanting to be a part of the attention and Din's smile wobbled, helplessly overwhelmed by the emotion. The Armorer bent to take the child into her arms, letting his tiny claws grab for the leather of her gloves. 

"Are you sure you do not wish for me to officiate right now?" she asked softly, caressing the backs of her fingers to the baby's cheek. She lifted her gaze to the pair before her again. "You've waited quite a long time, vod'e…" Din swallowed thickly and looked up to Paz, biting his bottom lip and shaking his head. Paz slipped his fingers between Din's, squeezing his hand gently and shaking his head as well.

"We can wait a little longer."

His rolling voice repeated words Din had said many weeks ago. Alor nodded her head with a hum and set the baby back in Din's arms. "Very well," she hummed, turning away from them and starting towards the ladder to the cockpit. "I have rested plenty. I will oversee the ship while you two rest. We have another few days' journey before our reunion."

"Yes, Alor."

She nodded once more and climbed the ladder up to the bridge. The child squirmed in Din's arms, rousing the man from his trance. Paz' hand was heavy on his shoulder, turning him to look at him. "A lot to take in?" The heavy gunner asked, his voice gentle as if not wanting to frighten Din away. The younger nodded his head, setting the squirming baby on the cot beside them, taking the cloaks and placing them back in the bin before the little one could get a hold of them.

"I suppose I'm just not used to the attention," Din said and Paz chuckled. He tossed him an accusing look over his shoulder, but smiled all the same behind his visor. "When it's not from you, cyare." He placed the lid back on the bin, setting it aside with the other boxes littering the floor of the cargo hold. Paz' hands immediately took his own once they were free, pulling him close to his body and Din melted against him with a heavy sigh.

"Back on Tatooine. Remember what I told you, Din'ika… All I could ever ask of you is for your safety and comfort. The safety of the foundling, our child. For your vow and your acceptance of mine in truth and honor." Paz reached up to cup the side of Din's helm, leaning down to rest their forehelms gently together. Din hated that his hands were shaking, grasping for purchase at Paz' arms to try and keep him as close as possible. It was terrifying.. being so vulnerable, but he realized he'd be protected. He wouldn't be exploited, he wouldn't be mocked or degraded for showing his weaknesses.

It wouldn't be like before, it never would be again.

His father was right about the concept of bonding, of having a riduur. He romanticized it, he talked about it in a way Din's never heard him speak about anything. His rough voice fond and warm as he spoke to Din as a young boy. Your riduur was your shield, was your blaster, and beskar…

Din released a shuddering sigh as he brought up his hand between them, tracing his fingertips lightly at the Mandalorian diamond adorning the center of Paz' chest plate. His eyes grew blurry and wet behind his visor, his heart pounding beneath his own armor. "You were all I ever wanted. I thought we'd never have this again and yet.." His voice was a whimper, broken but warm and shy. Paz' arms came around him entirely, cupping the back of his helm and rocking him gently.

"You have me. You'll always have me, cyar'ika."

"She was right about everything.." Din clutched at Paz' back, nuzzling his cheek plating against the older man's chest. "Not many get the second chance that we got. We were lucky." Paz chuckled softly and pulled him gently back. Din knew he was smiling and it was contagious. 

"Must have been that tooka you were talking to."

Din laughed, pure and honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations / Continuity References:  
> Riduurok - Mandalorian marriage vow, love bond, specifically between spouses - marriage agreement  
> riduur'e - plural of riduur (spouse, partner, husband, wife)  
> tooka - Loth cat   
> buir'e - plural of buir (parents)  
> bavodu'e - plural of bavodu (aunts/uncles)  
> ba'buir'e - plura of ba'buir (grandparents)  
> Kar'ta Beskar - the Iron Heart or Mandalorian Diamond, the diamond shaped piece at the center of Mandalorian chestplates. It is also integrated into their architecture and artwork as well.  
> Oya'karir - hunt, chase. In this instance, I used the word for a specific ritual performed by bonded Mandalorians in which they both act as beroya. They spar and "hunt" each other as per tradition. This was inspired by a trope found in heavily in Omegaverse fiction and artwork.  
> Din'ika- little Din, a nickname for Din.
> 
> \--  
> Disclaimer: This bonding process has been something I've been thinking about and plotting for the past 4 months and only just now got to writing it into this fic. Some of it is based off Omegaverse as I've mentioned for the Oya'karir. The parts about the Kar'ta Beskar I hope is original. Please tell me if it's been done before so I can give credit huuuu 💦
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and questions are always appreciated, thank y'all for reading! Find me on Tumblr and Twitter @skittydolly for updates, previews, and more Din/Paz content! - Dolly 🎀

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> cyare - beloved  
> ad - son, daughter  
> Buir - father, mother, parent  
> beskar - Mandalorian iron  
> beroya - bounty hunter  
> Jetiise - Jedi; plural of Jetii  
> Ba’buir - grandmother, grandfather, grandparent  
> Alor - leader, chief (in reference to the Armorer)  
> riduur - spouse, partner, husband, wife  
> ad'ika - little one  
> cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart  
> vode - brothers, sisters, comrades; plural of vod.
> 
> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it, comments and questions are always appreciated! I don't have a set schedule for the upcoming chapters, but they should come out a little easier than this introduction. 
> 
> If you're looking for more Din and Paz content, you can find me on Tumblr and Twitter @skittydolly for art and headcanons, also for updates and previews on upcoming chapters/fics ♥


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